Memphis Belle
by queenpearl
Summary: From a scene in the film "Memphis Belle". The night before her 25th mission, Dennis goes to talk to his plane.
1. The Night Before

Dennis strode across the field with a certain grace despite his uncertain feelings. The noises of the party behind him became nothing more than background, quick to fade away into the surrounding calm. Such calm unlike what he was about to face. What they were about to face. Belle stared back at him, knowing of his presence. She heard him coming long ago no doubt. Her senses were far superior than his. Her amber eyes were luminous as she turned them to catch the moonlight but they were warm as she gazed upon her master.

Dennis ceased his walk next to her nose, removing his cap in a gentlemanly way. His father had taught him to be polite to a lady, whatever her species.

"Hey girl, been a while." Dennis fumbled over his words, his voice quiet as though he was unsure of what to say. Belle gave an encouraging grunt. She was listening. And that was one of the reasons why Dennis loved her so much. She always listened. It gave him enough courage to continue.

"You've never let me down. Never let the men down. 24 missions and still undefeated yeah?"

She gave an agreeable bark, her sharp teeth flashing in the moonlight as she grinned. And those teeth had taken out quite a few Messerschmidt's that dared get in her way. Dennis chuckled, for the first time gently putting a hand on her nose. Instead of cold aluminum, a warmth spread across his palm and beneath the skin, a throb of life. Belle pressed against him, mindful of her larger size and weight. Despite her fierce-some reputation, she was a gentle giant. At least to those who were on her side!

"It's gone by so fast. I'm not ready to go home yet." Dennis sighed. "Everything's going to change."

She nuzzled him reassuringly and Dennis smiled. She could always lift his spirits. He would miss her when his tour ended.

"One last mission, eh old girl?" His thumb waddled her chin affectionately and she barked. "You've never let us down, and I know you won't now. See us through Belle, everything else comes secondary. Just see us all through alive."

Neither man nor plane ever took their position for granted. It was luck and skill that allowed Belle to do all that she had done. No other aircraft in the entire Allied force could say they had flown 24 missions and returned with all their men alive! She gave a soft coo, eyes humble. She'd do her best like she always did and would pray to her ancestors that would be enough.


	2. Silent Promise

_"He looked better than he did the night before."_ Was Belle's assessment of her navigator when he climbed aboard. The drunken raving boy had been replaced with a timid young man. But she could still hear his cries, silent now but just under his carefully crafted cool exterior.

 _"I don't want to die!"_

 _"I don't want to die!"_

His desperate pleas accompanied by their own special swig of his wine bottle were broken only by Belle's answering replies. He couldn't hear her. He never could but the B-17 spoke them anyways if only for her own reassurance.

 _"You won't die."_

 _"You won't die!"_

Whatever assistance she could offer could never change the outcome of a battle or the war, but if she could somehow, be it through sheer will or some kind of miracle, be able to bring all her boys home safely just this one last time. That then, would be what she would do.

 _"You won't die. I promise."_


	3. Out of the Frying Pan: Part 1

Delayed!

That was the one word that no plane wanted to hear.

Delayed!

Due to cloud cover!

Belle could understand the importance of an accurate hit, especially with civilian structures all around this target, but it was still frustrating to be sitting on the tarmac ready to leave and then being told she had to wait some more!

Sighing, she signed off her radio and turned to her fleetmates.

"Hey girls, there's cloud cover over the target. We're delayed!"

There were moans and groans.

"Son of a bitch!" C-Cups swore, punching a fence.

"Hey girls, situation normal..." Windy City began and the rest joined in.

 _"All fucked up!"_

...

 _"Okay Luke, let's take the time to double-double check everything."_

Belle turned her attention to her two pilots as they went over their pre-flight again.

"Brakes."

"Set, they were set before... and they're still set..." Luke's snarky tone made Belle giggle which earned her a glare from Dennis.

"Intercoolers."

Luke paused as he tried to keep a lid on his temper. His harsh sounding "Check!" reply indicated he wasn't succeeding.

Belle tuned out from the succeeding argument as her bombardier climbed outside and started stroking her belly. Most planes were very picky about where they liked to be touched and only certain parts of their undercarriage were allowed by certain people. Belle trusted the man enough to mind himself. He knew where and where not to go. His attentions earned him deep-throated purrs from the aircraft as Belle's amber eyes closed. She became content with the world, settling deep into her landing gear. There was a poke at one which she promptly lifted up, responding to training. The move imbalanced her and she rolled on her side in the grass. And there was her bombardier, Val, standing there with his dark eyes dancing in amusement. She glared at him but it was half-hearted and he knew it. She could never be truly angry with him.

Val took advantage of her vulnerable position by resuming his attentions in earnest. The other planes just stared at her. For any plane but particularly bombers, exposing one's underbelly tended to be suicide and some were too new to understand how she could be so trusting. Even with her own crew. Others, like C-Cups and Windy City, had been here and while and seen Belle's unusual devotion to her men. They were all loyal, to their own crews before the rest of the Army Air Corps. But Belle took it to a whole new level and still managed to shock the fellow veteran planes. They politely looked away but Belle could still feel their shock waves rippling off her ampule. She didn't give a Messerschmidt's tail if they felt that way. She did what she liked!

Her entire crew assembled on the sidelines until Luke, in his typical brazen fashion, announced a new plan.

"Dogpile!" He shouted and dove head first into Belle's belly.

Well, the B-17 was so shocked she nearly hit him with her landing gear. Only her training and unwavering devotion to these men kept her from doing so. Instead, she pressed her muzzle to his head while giving him a stern eye that clearly said _"Don't do that again."_

He grinned, completely unrepentant but that was why she loved him. The rest of the group, with Dennis in the lead, joined their comrade on her belly and she pulled them all into a soft embrace. She held them in her landing gear and curled in on herself, pulling her wheels up to her chest as her head came forward. Unusually, her tail remained flat. Most aircraft would curl their tail inward when in such a position. It was an instinctive gesture to cover and protect, certain important components for the species. But doing so in this case would crush the men in her grip so she left it flat.

She could smell the blood from all the nosebleeds and heard at least 2 planes drop in a faint. Windy City had quite the nasty nose herself, despite her embarrassed attempts to hide it. Mother and Country was down for the count, sprawled on the ground beside C-Cups who was making no effort to hide her amusement at the rookie's behavior.

And Belle didn't care! This was a moment between her and her men and right then, the rest of the world could go fuck itself!

But of course someone had to ruin it and that someone was the base commander over his megaphone!

"GET UP AND ASSUME POSITIONS FOR TAKEOFF, THE LOT OF YOU!"

Belle instantly released her men, letting them clamber off before she wriggled about, digging a wingtip into the grass-concrete edge and using the leverage gained to flip her upright. She shook her head once to clear the stars from her vision before straightening up and giving a firm bark. Her _"all aboard, we're flying"_ call. One by one they obeyed her command.

"I still can't believe you did that." whispered C-Cups.

" _I_ still can't believe you're not used to it!" Belle replied, making no effort to curb the volume.

"Shhh!" hissed Windy City as she took position on the runway.

As the lead plane, she'd be the first to fly out. Belle was 6th in the line, but she would be third once they got in formation. If both Windy City and C-Cups were wounded or shot down, she'd be the one to take over. Belle had never been lead plane before and despite her prayers that she could one day lead, she renounced them all. For it would mean her two best friends would perish first.

One by one the planes took off, heading south for the channel where they would join up with 14 other squadrons of their brethren out of various locations along the British coast. 360 planes would be sent out to rain hell on Bremen, no one knew how many would return. If they would return at all. And no one knew the risks better than Belle, regardless of her admirable combat record. She'd seen planes get shot down right next to her, so close that pieces struck her frame. It was due to one such event that she was laid down for repairs instead of taking part in the last mission. The one in which Riddles Maybelles was lost on touchdown. Belle had witnessed the crash landing. Only one wheel extended, she never had a chance. So close, yet so far. And each time she made a miraculous escape, cheating death by a matter of feet, inches in one case, she wondered why it wasn't her number?

 _"Luft, god of the sky. You've never steered me wrong yet. Keep them safe. My comrades deserve to live. See them through. Please, see them through."_

It was 50-50 on a good day with dieties. The war had taught her that prayers and missions could lead to a "into the fire" scenario. Given her extensive combat experience (she was the most senior plane present), she should've known better than to make such a request.


	4. Musical Woes

_Why do breezes sigh every evening_

"Oh not that garbage again!" Belle groaned.

Naturally, her animosity towards AFM resulted in quite a few exclamations from the crew.

"What? Oh this is classic stuff!"

"It's not classic, it's original. In a few decades this stuff's gonna be legendary!"

"You just want to show her your gun."

"Shut up Jack!"

Belle giggled as the situation dissolved from there, only put to rest by the fading signal. At last, the infernal noise was silenced and the B-17 could breathe a sigh of relief.

"Why do you hate her so much Belle?" Dennis asked.

Belle really didn't know how to answer that without bringing great embarrassment to herself. I mean, how could she just say "Because her and Rascal did it in your seat." Plus she couldn't just rat a crewman out.

So instead, she ignored the question and looked at Baby Ruth off her left wing.

"Hey Ruth!" She called.

"Yeah?"

"What you gonna do, after the war?"

"Go home and get laid." She replied. Now that got a laugh out of everybody.

"I think I'm gonna go somewhere where there's no rain first. And nice warm sun and sand. I can't get a tan but, it's the next best thing." C-Cups said.

Sweet Dreams was the next to speak up but Belle shut her down. "If you go on about that Airline chain again..." She groaned.

"But it's perfect! People can fly for practically nothing and I mean just average ordinary people who want to see places! Not just rich snobs or folk like our men."

"Never happen. Military won't let the civilian sector get the goods." Windy City said, joining in for the first time. She was at the head of the formation, just off Belle's starboard nose. Her course hadn't changed once throughout the flight, despite the varying wind currents. She was as steady as a rock. Belle always admired her flying skills.

"What are you going to do after the war?" Belle asked.

Windy City thought about that and she was thinking hard judging by the way her wings wobbled in response to the senior aircraft's question. "You know, I haven't really thought about it." She said at last. "I'm only on my 15th mission so I've got a ways to go before I can even think about going home. You're the lucky one here Belle. You _can_ think about it. But for the rest of us... it just seems so far away, you know?"

The grins and giggles went away quick at the sobering reminder. Whatever mission they were on, be it first or 15th or last, they were still at war.

The somber transition lasted only a minute though. Mother and Country had been only half-listening to the conversation, her eyes and ears perked for danger.

"Krauts, 10o'clock high!" She called as a flock of Messerschmidt's rained down from above.

Belle armed her guns. Their muzzles poked through her fuselage, glinting in the sun's rays. They were scenting death. Today she'd bag her sixth kill, a 109 ripe for the taking!


	5. Into the Fire

_"Bandits, 5o'clock!"_

Belle's grin was of a bloodthirsty nature as she eyed the planes on the outskirts of her formation. "Go get 'em little friends!"

The Mustangs peeled off to engage their German counterparts. Belle always loved watching those dogfights. There was something about fighters that were just so graceful, it made her jealous! Half of their moves she could never do without tearing a wing off! The other half she looked like a lumbering cow instead of a graceful bird!

The Mustangs did their best, they always did. But it was inevitable that the quick propped Messerschmidt's broke through the defense and bore down on the B-17s. But the lumbering bombers weren't helpless.

It was a waste of ammunition but Belle's adrenaline was going and she didn't care! She let loose with a volley, seeing the tracers line up perfectly with the yellow noses of the bastards. They were just out of range. Just as they came within firing distance, they peeled off in a classic, over the top and down behind maneuver.

B-17's had a decent armament to them but they did have their vulnerabilities. They had no nose weapons and their top turret couldn't strike at anything above it, leaving them open to a dive bomb attack.

 _"3 fighters, 9o'clock high. Keep your eyes on them!"_

"11 o'clock high, top turret can't reach them!"

...

Belle held her breath. Every mission they did this, it never got any easier. The helpless bomber could just sit and wait and pray she wasn't the target of their dive bomb attack. And once again, her luck held. She was left alone. She breathed a sigh of relief!

 _"Got another, 6o'clock high! I've got him!"_

...

There was smoke from the Messerschmidt's right engine, indicating that he'd been hit. He spiraled downwards as the pilot baled out.

 _"Did I get him?"_ Belle asked.

 _"No, I saw Mother and Country's rounds strike."_ Ruth replied.

 _"Damn, first time out and they get a kill."_ Belle groaned.

Mother and Country couldn't help but look smug but Belle shot her a glare and she nodded. Don't revel, keep on task!

Belle saw a pair of Messerschmidt's fly right over her, ignoring her completely which would really pissed her off after what happened next! Stuck in formation, there was nothing she could do. Deep down she knew that. Utterly and completely she knew there was nothing she could've done that day that would've changed this.

At the start of the fight, the Nazis were focusing on the middle of the formation but now they changed tactics. With the Mustangs busy elsewhere, it was a perfect opportunity and they closed in for a kill!

For Windy City, the ride had been smooth even after the Nazis showed their ugly mugs! She'd been lucky. Her flight had been left alone, unusual since they were usually the first one's attacked. Take out the lead flight and they go down like dominoes. But the Nazis had been displaying a different tactic this battle. She should've known that old habits always died hard!

She never heard them coming. They came up from behind. Her blind spot where she couldn't see, hear, smell or detect them period! The pair got on their cannons and a pair of 50 calibers went straight into her inboard left engine. The pain was intense as the bullets sliced between fan blades, getting into the deep inner workings of the engine and causing all kinds of nasty damage. She would have to drop out of formation.

 _"I'm hit! C-Cups, you're taking over!"_

"C-Cups copies, return to... OH MY GOD!"

...

And that's when her world blew apart!

Belle was directly behind Windy City the whole time, never more than a plane length away. She saw the first engine go out, trailing smoke, followed by the second engine on the same side. Windy City banked hard to the right, losing altitude in a standard "I'm out of formation, returning to base" maneuver. The Mustangs were due to return to England soon as well. Perhaps she'd get lucky and have an escort out of them. A wounded bomber on her own was easy pickings for even a rookie Nazi pilot and they'd likely have fun with her before she went down.

All those hopes vanished in one deadly, devastating instant. When Belle didn't see chutes, she had assumed Windy City was flyable enough for the crew not to bail out. And she could only watch in horror as her lead plane, wingman, parking-mate, drinking buddy, and all around best friend for 2 years became nothing more than a bunch of exploding debris. The sight would haunt Belle in the years to come. She still woke in a cold sweat sometimes. The only comfort was that it was quick. Windy City never would've known what had happened until she stood at the feet of Luft, seeking entrance into his starry domain.

Hot debris showed down on Belle as she was forced to fly through the remains. Something sticky and warm splattered on her nose and she knew without looking that it was Windy City's heart. Torn and shredded through by the explosion. She remembered what Windy City had set to her, the night before this mission. Belle had been down after hearing her navigator's desperate cries. Windy City had been the one to soothe her fears. She'd always been able to do that when no other plane could. The memories, once blurred through a haze of alcohol and cigarettes, now shown clearly like a reflection on a mill pond.

...

Belle's alcohol induced haze saw only Windy City, and she felt only pleasure at the younger plane's administrations. The two had always been close but it wasn't until two missions ago that they shared an intimate knowledge of each other. Since then, they'd spent practically every night experimenting. But this time was different. Different because it wasn't an experiment. Windy City's administrations spoke of love and affection, her field generating waves of healing concern to the plane beneath her.

Their wingtips pressed together, ampule feeding off each other and creating a discharge twice as strong which served to enhance both plane's efforts. Windy City and Belle had done a decent job of keeping their moments silent but now the muffled growls, harsh breaths and eager cries of planes at the height of their passions echoed across the base. None of the planes slept before a mission so the only thing the sounds did for them was arouse their curiosity. The humans on the other hand, weren't as amused. Try as they might though, they couldn't find the two culprits. Belle and Windy City had mastered the art of hiding. This time belonged to them and they intended to make the most of it!

After one intense discharge, Belle was still catching her breath as she looked up at her soon to be lead plane and mate of 4 months. "If the Nazis ever forced me to choose between my crew and you, I would always choose you."

"You know you shouldn't." Windy City replied, pressing her nose to her neck as she started again. Belle gave a soft moan. "I am an easier target and can be replaced. They cannot. So you keep going and you shove those bombs up Adolf Hitler's throat!"

"Nor can you. Not to me anyways. Fuck what the army says! They can get new planes yes, but it's not the same." She growled.

Windy City pulled back for a moment, getting Belle to look her in the eye. "Hear this now," she said sternly. "I will always come for you. Even in death, I will be with you."

"Fate is a fickle thing sometimes isn't she?" Belle asked. "Sometimes-sometimes I wonder why she chose me to live."

"I don't know. You are destined to return home, little Bella." Windy City replied, using her pet name.

"And what of your fate, Willow?" Belle whispered.

Windy City pressed their noses together gently, breathing softly as she spoke in a voice barely heard even by the speaker. "My heart will always belong to you."

...

Belle didn't realize she'd been daydreaming until she blinked. She was surprise to find her vision blurred and she blinked again. Something wet ran down her cheeks, cold and salty tasting. The blood of Windy City's heart remained on her nose. Never, in her wildest dreams, could she have imagined that Luft would take her mate's promise seriously. Of all the planes... why did it have to be her? Belle knew, even without the explosion and the remains adoring her frame, that Windy City was dead. The brokenness that settled in her heart told her all she needed to know. The bond was broken and even if Windy City was still with her, she was beyond Belle's reach.

The agony was more than she could bare and her lips parted as she elicited a sharp cry. It was painful in every way possible. Its pitch, its tone, the way Belle seemed to struggle as if she was trying to hold it back but couldn't. C-Cups, being the nearest, was the first to hear. She dropped back alongside.

"Let it out, Belle." She said.

Belle gritted her teeth, keeping her gaze fixed firmly ahead, not looking at the gory mess on her nose. She'd promised not to cry. Her only grief would be a payload of bombs dropped on target down those filthy krauts throats!

C-Cups wasn't having it though. "Memphis Belle, let it all out."

The use of her full name startled Belle enough that her fragile control slipped. Just a bit, but it was enough to break the dam and the trickle became a torrent. She was glad her crew was in command because there was no way she could fly herself right then. She was a mess! And a pitiful one at that! Every surface was shaking, every aileron taught with the tension brought by unimaginable agony. Screams replaced cries. Not screams of fear, but the screams of a broken heart and a shattered soul.

The entire flight, three hundred and six- three hundred and _fifty nine_ planes moved as one unit, surrounding around one of their number. Memphis Belle. The most hurt, the biggest injury. It was instinctive, but Belle appreciated it nonetheless. C-Cups remained at her side, not even flinching as Belle buried her nose into the base of her tail. Both their crews took over flying, allowing the pair to remain close, clinging to each other's plating. Belle wasn't sure how many tears she cried that day. She never did care to find out. All she knew was she cried until she could cry no more. And not a single tear was ever shed again after that, as though Belle's tear ducks had dried up. And though she would grow and love again, watching over nieces and nephews, she would never have her own children or another mate, again.


	6. Initial Point

With C-Cups out of formation, Belle was now in charge. They were minutes away from Bremen and the Luftwaffe fighters peeled off to avoid the flak field. Her formation however had no choice but to go straight through. Belle struggled to regain her focus. C-Cups was her closest friend next to Windy City. Her nose broken and bleeding heavily she had no choice but to leave the formation. Belle prayed she'd make it home.

Belle was shaken by the intensity of the flak. "Jesus this is intense!" cried Baby Ruth cried. "I heard there's over 500 antiaircraft guns around Bremen." Said Black Eyed Peas. "I could have gone without knowing that!" Ruth growled. "Can it!" Belle hissed. "Belle, can't we-can't we go around?" Mother and Country asked nervously. Belle looked at her with some softness. "If we do we'll miss the target." She replied. "Don't worry, just aim for the spurts and you'll be fine. They won't shoot at the same area twice."

Approaching the target they could all see that something was very wrong. They had no visual contact with the ground. A thick smoke covered the city and it didn't lessen. Belle's senses told her she should be right over the target. In the past, she would have dropped her bombs anyways but this time she hesitated. A playground, a school, and a neighborhood surrounded the factory. Not only were there innocents on the ground but a previous bombing run had failed to hit the target forcing her to lead this formation back out here. No way was she willing to risk letting it go untouched again, costing more lives. She made her decision and banked hard right, hearing a few sighs and grumbles behind her but she was lead plane. Her decision was final. As one, the 100 odd bombers began a wide 360 degree turn that would take them out of and then back into the flak they had just flown through. It was not a choice Belle took lightly but it was the only option she could see.

The Luftwaffe were waiting for them when they emerged and came in from above as the group made its second turn to realign itself with the target. "Fighters on the roof, heads up girls!" Belle called. Everyone was on high alert and when the fighters came in, they were ready. Tracers all but covered the sky as the powerful guns on the B17s opened up. But the 109s were nimble craft, not at all like the lumbering bombers and outmaneuvered a lot of the weapons. One took a run at Black Eyed Peas who was positioned directly behind Belle. Belle was careful with her tail gun to avoid striking the friendly aircraft. A few quick rounds knocked the 109 out of the sky and straight into Mother and Country. Belle saw what was coming seconds before it happened and tried to warn the rookie. "Mother watch out!" Her warning was too late and the wounded fighter, dying and determined to take another plane down with him, slammed into Mother and Country's tail, severing it cleanly. The two halves spiraled downwards. Belle deliberately avoided looking at her for she knew there was nothing she could do. With her control lines cut, Mother and Country bled out within a minute. Dead long before she hit the ground in a fiery explosion, her screams going silent. Baby Ruth was looking at Belle curiously. She had not seen what had occurred. Belle met her gaze and shook her head. Baby Ruth looked way with a tight grimace. "God..." She whispered. The loss of a veteran plane was often devastating enough. Losing one so young and so vigorous was always heartbreaking. Like losing your own child.

The fighters peeled off again as their presence was replaced by the familiar bumps and bangs of the flak field. Smoke still obscured the target and Belle was silently pleading with the sky gods in her head. The last thing she wanted to do was to go around again, to be responsible for another death. No one blamed her for Mother and Country, this was war. But Belle would always blame herself. The rookie had perished under her watch. Through the smoke a shape appeared, a shape very distinctive as she had studied her target package long before. "That it! That's it!" She cried joyfully. "Bombs away girls!" As soon as she released her weapons, the rest of the squadron followed suit, dumping hundreds and hundreds of bombs onto the area. It was often give or take with carpet bombing. The practice was unreliable and with unguided weapons, later decried as indiscriminate. As if the raids of the Germans and the Japanese weren't. This time, Belle's brilliant eyesight paid off and most of the bombs landed in a concentrated area. Not bad for a drop at 25000 feet.

Reemerging from the flak field all the planes were jumpy. All bore the marks of their recent experience and the scent of blood was heavy in the air. Even Belle had a few scrapes along her belly from flak that had struck her. Like hungry sharks circling wounded prey, this was the time that the Luftwaffe preferred to attack. Today was no different. As soon as the familiar silhouettes were spotted, the planes on the outskirts of the formation opened up with everything they had, scattering the 109s. This forced the rest of the formation to divide their fire as the 109s now came in as singles or sometimes in pairs, targeting specific planes they felt were too wounded to fight back. Black Eyed Peas was not in that category and as a 109 mistook her for a wounded bird, she showed him his mistake. There was the satisfying sound of an explosion and the remains of the German fighter rained down towards the ground. "Nice shooting Pea!" Belle called. "Thank you dearie!" Pea replied, having developed a British accent during her time overseas. "Always happy to diminish the... bogie 9-o-clock low." With her warning, Belle was able to obliterate the fighter before he could strafe her belly. "And your mother too!" She shouted, the kill easing the pain of her previous losses somewhat. But the battle was just beginning.

Three German fighters made a run straight for her and the first flight. "They're gonna strafe you." Pea warned. "What am I supposed to do, spit on 'em?!" Belle snarled, frustrated that she had no guns up front to ward the fighters off with as the later models of the B17 would have. They flew up and over her, taking a chunk out of the top part of her tailfin. Belle bared her teeth as the pain registered but true to her nature, she did not cry out. Then she noticed something more unwelcome. A fire in one of her engines, the outboard on her right wing. She cut fuel and feathered the prop, shutting down the engine but before she could hit the fire extinguisher another fighter came in, his bullets narrowly missing her skull but bombarding the cockpit nonetheless. She tried and failed to put the fire out and if she let it burn, it would reach the fuel tanks. The memory of Windy City's explosion was at the forefront of her mind. She turned to Baby Ruth. "Get them home." She ordered. "Belle!" Ruth was a veteran of 21 missions and had known Belle since the older B17 had taken her under her wing. "I'm going to have to dive to put this fire out. I'll rejoin you when I can." Ruth sighed. "See you on the ground." Was all she said, settling into Belle's position at the head of the line as the older plane banked hard into a dive, gaining speed as she went.


	7. The Final Leg

Diving meant increased airflow over the wings, which meant more speed. Belle's speed increased rapidly as she headed towards the ground. 100 knots, 200 knots, 250 knots. At 275 knots she was not only well above her maximum dive speed but also in danger of tearing one of her wings off. But that fire was still not out and she would not pull up unless she absolutely had to until the flames had been extinguished. At 6000 feet, an altitude that made it easy for even the larger unwieldy mortars to strike her, she leveled off the flames reduced to wispy smoke that were quickly dissipated in the airflow. The G-forces involved as she pulled up were tremendous. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her vision went gray as she threatened to black out. She forced herself to remain conscious, then she bit her lip and gritted her teeth to keep the fuel where it belonged in her churning tanks as she leveled off. She succeeded for the most part, gagging as fuel mixed with hot bile worked its way up her throat. Her wings wobbled but her skills in flying were unmatched and she straightened out, still holding down her lunch.

Looking around she felt a pang as she realized she was alone. Alone and wounded. If there wasn't a more perfect target for the Luftwaffe, there was one now. She had never felt more relieved as she reached the safety of the Channel, the coast of England looming in the distance. Another hour and she'd be home. She hissed as a second engine cut out and wondered if she was running low on fuel. The gauges were of no help, they had been destroyed along with most of her instrumentation when that 109 had strafed her head. Feathering the prop she continued on, ignoring the pain that her roasted number four engine gave her. That wing was also weakened by the burns and she worried that it might not hold under the stresses of flight. Not that she had any choice but to force it to. She pushed past the pain and continued on, enjoying the view of the farmers fields below her.

Back at the airfield, the other planes had all landed safely. As was customary for the lead airplane, Ruth was the last to land, pulling off to the side next to Pea and C-Cups who's head was freshly bandaged. Ruth filled C-Cups in on events after she had left the formation. "Smoke over the target was intense and we had to go around again. Fighter defense was the strongest I've ever seen it. We faired well but a dying kraut knocked out Mother on the way down." "A dying kraut got the rookies?" C-Cups asked, shocked. She'd heard of plenty of strange ways to die, there were always new ways being discovered in this war, but that was certainly the most unusual. "Belle got 'em with her tail gun. He banked and went straight through Mother's tail. Belle couldn't even look at her." "I can't say I blame her. For none of it." "Yeah, well tell that to her." Ruth snorted. "Where is she? Thought I gave her command." "C-Cups asked. "You did. But after we finished our run, a 109 put a few rounds into one of her engines and knocked out her instruments for good measure. She had to dive to put the flame out. Last I saw she was heading towards France." "God..." C-Cups looked down, biting her lip as she fought hard to accept reality. "Hey, Belle's the best flyer there is. If anyone can make it through she can." "How long will it take her to fly the distance on three engines?" Ruth looked down. "She should've already landed by now. But she was losing fuel. Could be she had to shut down another one. I'd give it another 15 minutes before I call it." "You're being optimistic." C-Cups accused her. "Sometimes, that's all I can afford to be." Ruth admitted. C-Cups had nothing to say to that.

As Belle approached the airfield 20 miles out a fierce pain overtook her. Her remaining right engine seized, coughed twice and shut down all together. She feathered the propeller immediately, cursing under her breath. She had never flown on one engine before. She didn't know of any B17 that had even tried, not even in the test flights. And she had read every manual that Boeing provided on the subject. There was nothing in there that indicated what she should do. "Guess I'm going to have to write a new manual then." She chuckled at her optimism. Her statement riding on the presumption that she would land first.

At the airfield, Ruth had stopped looking desperately at the sky hoping that one of the little crows she saw turned out to be a B17. Biting her lip, she turned to C-Cups ready to accept that her friend was dead when a very welcome sound reached her ears. It was rough it was dirty and it sounded agonizing but it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She whirled around. C-Cups, surprised at the other plane's quick actions, did the same. Both saw the dark shape in the distance resolve into a B17 and there was only one plane it could be. The field could not possibly have cheered any louder. Belle had another few miles to go. She was lined up with runway on the far side of the field. Ruth could see that three of her engines had been shut down, the propellers feathered and motionless. She had lost her ball turret and through the gaping hole in her belly hung several control cables. None of which thankfully were actively bleeding. Her tail was shot to hell, covered in blood spatters. Her head bore a large actively bleeding wound that had to be affecting her concentration. Blood ran down between her eyes, mixing with the remains of Windy City that adorned her nose. Despite all this, she didn't waver in her course. Ruth could only imagine the concentration it was taking to hold her glide slope. Despite her best efforts, Belle's altitude was dropping fast. One engine was not enough to keep her heavy bulk in the air this low to the ground.

Having the runway in sight, Belle lowered her gear, feeling the left one extend fully but the right... She knew something was wrong the moment she tried to extend it. When her ball turret had been destroyed the damage had extended to her hip. The joint was severed. She could not lower it herself. As her profile became more pronounced, Ruth and C-Cups recognized the severity of the situation. "God she's only got one wheel down." C-Cups turned away, burying her head in Ruth's side. "Tell me when it's over." She begged, not wanting to see Belle go up in flames. "She's not done yet. She's trying." Ruth said. "Come on Belle. You're so close, come on." She whispered.

Belle felt it when her crew succeeded in reattaching the joint. She immediately dropped the right wheel, popping flares to let the ground grew know she'd need medical assistance when she landed. She could barely focus now, her head wound seriously hampering her ability to fly. "Just a little farther." She whispered to herself. Her wheels contacted the runway and she bounced once before sticking it. A renewed cheer went up as the other B17s realized she'd made it. Belle applied her brakes and limped off the runway onto the grass, her gear trembling. She could barely see straight but she did notice C-Cups barreling towards her, the other B17 taking her in a tight embrace. Belle gladly leaned into her, purring. Ruth came up on her other side, helping to support her. Belle closed her eyes, an action that earned her a fierce nudge from Ruth. "Ah, ah. No counting sheep just yet sweetheart. It's photo op time." She ran her tongue over Belle's head, clearing the old blood away. More dripped down as the wound was still open but Belle ignored it. "Okay, okay." She grunted, getting her gear under her. She shook the other planes off and they retreated out of the frame. Belle turned her attentions to her crew, all alive. "I love you!" Cheered Virgil as he leaped up and patted her side. She grinned, his happiness infectious. The photographer snapped the picture. Dennis came up, the bottle of champagne that Danny had sneaked aboard in hand. His frowny face was just a facade as he pulled his hand off the top of the bottle, allowing it to spray his men. Even Belle got a little on her. As the boys played she snatched the nearly empty bottle out of his hand, holding it between her teeth as she tipped her head back. She had never tasted a sweeter liquid. When she lowered her head, Dennis stood there somewhat amused. "Enjoy it?" He asked and she nodded, the bottle clanking against her skin. He chuckled and put a hand over her nose. "Thank you, for never letting us down." Belle offered a shaky purr, the bottle slipping from her teeth and falling to the ground. She took a stumbling step forwards and her gear collapsed. Ruth and C-Cups caught her before she went down, Ruth lifting her head and attempting to carry her on her back. Belle offered her pilot one last soft look before she allowed her exhaustion to overtake her. She passed out peacefully on Ruth's back, C-Cups and Pea licking her wounds clean.

...

 **Baby Ruth (April 1938- January 1944)** successfully lead the remaining squadron of 21 planes back to Kimbolton. She went on to fly 3 more missions before being killed in action in January 1944.

 **C-Cups (May 1937- August 17 1943)** C-Cups was repaired and returned to service. Her first flight was the infamous Schweinfurt-Regensburg mission. She became one of the 60 bombers shot down over Germany that day. It was her sixth birthday.

 **Black Eyed Peas (April 1937- June 1946)** survived the war but crashed in Florida during a training flight. She was humanely euthanized after efforts to save her failed.

 **Mother and Country (May 1940-May 17, 1943)** was just one of thousands of new B17s who would die before they saw their first year of combat. Of the 12000 B17s built during the war, 5000 would perish in the skies over Europe.

 **Windy City (March 1937-May 17, 1943)** was considered to be one of the finest flyers in England. Her skills in the air made her the perfect choice to train new aircraft. Her knowledge of tactics and strategy helped win the war.

 **Memphis Belle (April 1936-Present)** is one of the last surviving B17 veterans of the war. Haunted by her experiences she rarely speaks of her service. Her relationship with Windy City was not known to the public until the 1980s when Belle finally came clean.


End file.
